Off limits
by Chinese Bakery
Summary: Stanley confronts Mimi about the stolen pesticides. Mimi, Stanley. Spoilers through 1x06.


Title: **Off-limits**  
Author: chinesebakery  
Summary: Stanley confronts Mimi about the stolen pesticide.  
Characters: Mimi, Stanley  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: 1x06, 9.02  
Disclaimer: Not my toys.  
A/N: Thanks to becoolbec for the beta

* * *

"Hi, erm, Sean, right?" 

"Hey, the DC chick!" the kid exclaimed coyly, earning a collective chuckle from the group of teenagers gathered around him. "Sorry, Sean's busy right now. What'd you want him for?" he inquired as he took a step forward, invading her space.

"Want to make some quick cash?" Mimi asked as she pushed him back, visibly unimpressed.

"Always," the teen smirked with more than a hint of bravado.

"Okay, I don't have cash so to speak but this," she said as she unhooked her watch and shook it in front of Sean's eyes, "is worth _a lot_ of money."

"A broken watch?"

"See those shiny little things? They're diamonds. I'm sure whenever things get back to normal-"

"What do you want for it?" the kid interrupted her with a gleam to his eye.

"I need you to get something from the store," she murmured as she nodded towards Gracie's.

Xxxxx

"You _stole_ the pesticides?" Stanley exclaimed incredulously as his eyes grew wide.

"What, am I talking to myself? I paid someone to steal them. I gave them my diamond watch."

"I can't believe this is what we've come to."

"We don't really have a choice, Stanley. It's every man for himself now."

He dropped the oil container to the ground and turned back to the house, shooting her an incensed look as his pace quickened.

"Where are you going?" Mimi asked as she struggled to match his speed.

"To give the pesticides back to Gracie."

"What?" she whined, "but-"

"Don't," Stanley turned to Mimi and raised a hand to silence her.

"Stanley!" Mimi moaned, disgruntled to see her good will wasn't appreciated.

"Oh, we're gonna talk about this," he informed her as the smile he always kept for the times she had effectively pissed him off broadened on his lips. "Later," he shouted as he easily increased the distance between them with his long strides.

Xxxxx

When the last case had been safely stored and each participant of the improvised corn harvest warmly thanked, Stanley made his way back to the house, bracing himself for a confrontation he was most definitely not looking forward to.

She had gone too far. What he wasn't sure of was why. The gesture had seemed almost selfless, which wasn't a qualifier that could be used loosely regarding Mimi Clark. It had been her first unprompted effort to help, and although he knew he ought to chastise her for it, he wasn't entirely displeased.

He found her sprawled unceremoniously across an armchair, massaging her aching feet. She looked weary and as irritated as ever, but her skin seemed tanner and freckled around the hem of her white top, her hair tangled and untidy. It was not the worst look for her. It was… distracting.

Stanley shook his head to clear it and crossed the living room to plant himself in front of her.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm sun burnt, exhausted, and my feet are killing me –thanks to you, blackmailer," Mimi grumbled, sending him a resentful glare.

"Okay," he replied, unfazed, and grabbed a chair to sit opposite her. When he spoke again, his voice sounded dangerously calm. "What the hell were you thinking? Paying kids to steal from Gracie?" he elaborated to answer the silent question in her eyes.

Mimi frowned. "I was trying to help you!"

"Did I ask you to?"

"No but-"

"Who was it? Who did you ask?"

"I don't know, some kids who roamed around the store. Does it matter?"

"Look, I don't know how you dealt with things back in DC but here-"

"You think in any other situation I would have given up a diamond watch to get _pesticides_? I loved that watch! It was a present and-"

He raised a hand to dismiss her protests. "No one asked you to give it away," he reminded her impatiently.

"We're in a life or death situation, Stanley! We need the freaking corn!"

"We have all the corn we need. Look, I appreciate the gesture –I think– but you've got to promise me you're not going to pull another stunt like that."

"You're in luck; I'm running out of things to sell," Mimi pouted.

"That's not exactly the answer I was hoping to hear."

"What, you expect me to trust fate and the good folks from Jericho?"

"You could start with trusting _me_!" Stanley growled as the familiar exasperation she never failed to cause him started to set.

"No, I can't! You're so naive it borders on gullible."

Stanley's face fell at her words, but his anger quickly took over. "Don't you dare condescend me. You know nothing about me but what my tax papers tell you."

"I know first hand the kind of mess you're capable of getting yourself into. I'm sorry but this is about _my_ survival too and I'm not taking any chances."

Stanley opened his mouth to reply but caught himself just in time. Instead, he shook his head and rose to his feet.

"Okay. I'm done talking to you," he announced, as the play of muscles in his jaw betrayed his barely contained ire.

Stanley spared her one last crossed look and rushed to his room by the stairs in a few ample steps, slamming the door behind him. Mimi stared at the door for a second, mouth agape, and jumped to her feet in turn.

"Oh no, we're not done!" she shouted as she ran after him and stepped into his room for the first time.

Stanley was sitting on the bed with his head down, his hands clutching the mattress edge. It took a few moments for him to acknowledge her presence, and she was about to clear her throat when he slowly rose his head to meet her eyes.

She had never seen him so furious. But aside from his obvious wrath, he looked hurt and thoroughly miffed.

"Get out," he demanded, a patent warning in his low voice. "This room is off limits to you."

"Why are you so angry?"

"This conversation is over."

"Note quite!"

"You're this close to being homeless," he informed her as he showed the dangerous, fierce smile she was beginning to know so well, and raised a shaky thumb and index finger to illustrate his words.

"You wouldn't," Mimi asserted defiantly and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Oh yeah? Because I'm so naïve I could confuse your obnoxiousness for concern?"

"What is this about, exactly?"

"This is about you being a patronizing bitch! This is about you making me look like a liar and a thief to people I've known all my life. This is about you being housed and fed and still acting like everything is due to you. This is about you spending every wake hour driving me crazy!"

The next second, Stanley was on his feet and so close to her they almost touched. Before he could think better of it, he grabbed her arm and added, "this is about you not knowing a good thing when you see it."

For once in her life, Mimi was speechless. She stared at the hand gripping her arm, then back at his eyes. His face looked flushed and tense and she couldn't read it –or at least, couldn't imagine being right about what she read. She saw his eyes fell to her exposed shoulder and the new freckles covering her skin.

"We're not talking about the pesticides anymore, are we?" she asked in a small voice that sounded unfamiliar and childish to her own ears.

Stanley raised his gaze to hers again and a million contradictory emotions ran through his eyes. She saw the flush to his neck and cheeks intensify, his eyes darken, and suddenly, she was quite certain she understood the meaning to his conflicted look. What flashed in her own eyes then was very easy to make out. Fear. A fear she wasn't sure she understood herself.

As panic started to overcome her, Stanley blinked and abruptly let go of her arm as if it was on fire. They stood there for another second, their bodies almost touching, until he took a step back and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said flatly, "it's been a long day and I'm… I'm sorry."

"Stanley-"

"I need some rest. Can you please…" he muttered, letting the sentence hang in the air as he motioned towards the door.

Mimi tried to catch his eyes but he wouldn't look at her anymore. She stood awkwardly for a minute, debating what to do, before listening to her first impulse and settling for the easiest. She hesitantly walked to the door, turning to close it just in time to catch a glimpse of Stanley as he collapsed on his previous spot on the bed, his eyes planted on the floor. He looked defeated.

_Well_, she reasoned with herself, _at least he wasn't mad at her anymore._

Xxxxxxx


End file.
